To The Void
by Gangyzgirl
Summary: KaNack is almost three hundred years old and is still sending souls to the Void in Sithis' name. He's had to say goodbye to many friends and family over time and it has not been easy. He's become a legend in both his title as the Dragonborn and leader of the Dark Brotherhood. However, nobody lives forever, not even one who possesses a dragon's soul. KaNack/Cicero pairing.
1. Waiting for Death

**Author's Notes: This is going to be a short story, only four chapters are planned. I expect to do more short stories than long fics with The Winterhold Five being my last extended one. I also decided to put Cicero and KaNack together because I feel personally that its more fitting given how close he and the Keeper have become. If you don't like Cicero slash, don't read because this is how I wanted it to go. **

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The Dark Brotherhood's leader was now pushing three hundred years in age and should have stopped going out on missions long ago. The red and black assassin refused to though; so long as he could still walk and cast his spells, he would remain an active killer in the guild.

His contract involved no specifics in how the target was to meet his end save that he was to make it look like it had happened due to natural causes. The Dawnstar Sanctuary's Speaker, Vytalas, had made a point in giving KaNack the easier assassinations as the Listener grew older. A High Elf was his victim, a former member of the Thalmor; the Argonian had no qualms over ridding Tamriel of this Mer.

KaNack sucked in the cool night air as he silently picked at the lock of the cottage door. The house was out in the middle of nowhere, but that did not matter to him in the slightest. He had been given a contract and he was bound to send a soul to Sithis. The reptile grumbled as he continued to fumble with the tools, his wrinkled claws aching.

He longed for the old days when he was much stronger and the elements didn't affect him as severely as they did now. In fact, a lot of things were better when he was younger.

His wife, Brelyna, had left the Argonian centuries ago. She had only spent a few months trying to embrace the Dark Brotherhood family before her conscience got the better of her and she requested to leave under the promise she would never betray the Brotherhood. She had been as good as her word and the secrets of the assassins' guild never crossed her gray lips.

To present day she and KaNack remained good friends, but the romance they felt for one another had long since evaporated. It was only after her leaving that the mage found love in the most unlikely, but understandable of places. The Keeper and he had always been close and over time their relationship grew into something more breaking the barrier of friendship.

Cicero and KaNack had fifty years together before the time came and the Imperial had to make his final journey into the Void. This easily was the most painful and heart wrenching loss that the mage ever had to endure, but at least he had plenty of time to say his final goodbyes before the jester went 'home' in a way.

"Do you need help, Listener?"

Lucien, as always was there by his side and willing to help out whenever he was needed. The specter was his security blanket.

Since the passing of the Fool of Hearts, Lucien had become an almost constant companion to the Black Hand leader, being kept from the Void for weeks at a time. The Speaker made it a point to always be there for the conjurer and would always protect him; keeping him safe when death threatened to take him.

"Bah, I used to be able to pick a master lock within a minute," the mage remarked solemnly as he passed the tools on to the Spectral Assassin. The spirit went to work on the lock so that his caster would be able to have access to his prey.

"You're suffering from arthritis, the bitter chill in the air is making it more difficult for you," the ghost said, a small smile forming as he heard the familiar click.

Lachance moved to the side as KaNack nudged the door open, lowered to the floor and began to move silently into the cottage. The smell of mildew wafted from the wooden floors as the mage slithered over the planks, silent as he ever was. The Argonian paused when he noticed a faint glowing coming from one of the rooms in the residence; it appeared the Altmer was still awake. A chill ran down the Listener's spine as he felt the cool breath of his spiritual guardian on his neck. He did not mind, it only meant than his dear friend was close and keeping an ever watchful eye on him.

Peeking around the doorframe, the assassin could see the former Thalmor. He was seated at a desk, reading a tome by the dim light of the candle. He was old, even with the elven blood running in his veins, the Mer looked ancient and wrinkled. Vytalas had told the Argonian that the Atlmer was golden in years, but the caster had no idea that he would be taking the life of one who looked like he had been around for a few millennia.

"Finally, I was wondering when you would show up," the elf said, not even bothering to look up from his book as he motioned for the mage to approach. "Come closer, assassin for the Dark Brotherhood."

KaNack stirred and had an eerie sense of déjà vu. His tail brushed to the side and wrapped around the ethereal foot of his spirit. A hand rested on his shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze before easing him forward. Lucien wanted him to approach the target; the ghost must have sensed something that he could not.

"Not many that know I am coming are as welcoming as yourself," the reptile uttered as he stepped into the room and stood before the Altmer with crossed arms. The Mer closed his book and smiled up at the aged caster.

"I am sure that most you have gone after aren't as old as myself." He took in KaNack's appearance and rubbed at his chin with a grin. "Well, look at you. The man who assigned you this task knew of my age, but I didn't expect him to send such an 'experienced' assassin to do the job." The Altmer rested his hands on a knee, further amused by the angry look being shot at him. "My name is Cirion. From whom do I have the pleasure of receiving the blessing of death?"

"I've made it a point to no longer hand out my name on assignment," the Argonian answered simply. "You may call me, 'Assassin'." He held out a clawed hand and a few sparks shot out from his fingers, but a grimace formed on the mage's face and he quickly stopped the casting.

"Yes, using magic hurts once you get to a certain point in life," Cirion observed sympathetically. "Even the mildest of spells ache when they run through brittle fingers." The High Elf stood up and approached the Listener. "What does a mage become when he is too ancient to cast spells?"

KaNack grumbled as he furrowed his wrinkled brow at the man. "One whom is not afraid to die it seems."

"Indeed," the Mer agreed. "You see, I was the only who hired the Dark Brotherhood."

"I'm sorry?" the Argonian remarked in surprise.

"I am tired of waiting for death to come to me."

"Ha," the caster laughed quietly as he turned to Lucien. "Leave it to the one eared fetcher to practically hand feed me these contracts." The reptile sighed heavily as he pointed towards the elf's bed. "Since we're apparently on good terms, would you mind if I sat down? As you so tactfully stated, I am quite an 'experienced' assassin." Cirion nodded and KaNack settled down on the foot of the bed.

A number of pops could be heard as the Listener stretched his arms over his head. "You're too kind." Thankful to be no longer standing on his feet, the reptile shot the Altmer a grin. "I will grant you the desire for an end. Since you've been so accommodating to me, I shall give the option of how you wish to leave this world. I do understand that you wanted it to look like there was no foul play involved."

"Any way that looks natural is fine if you can manage it," the Mer insisted as he returned to his seat by the desk. "My son will be coming to check on me tomorrow and I don't want him to think that I died by any nefarious means."

The Argonian fumbled through his satchel and pulled out a small red vial. "An old friend of mine was a very skilled alchemist and devised a poison that kills quickly and leaves no trace. Your son would never suspect a thing." KaNack frowned as he turned the bottle around in his claws. "May I ask why you are so tired of life?"

"Don't tell me you don't hate it too," Cirion answered simply. "Elves are granted extended lives already, but combine that with the magic flowing within there seems to be no end to our existence." The Mer rested his head on a palm as he continued. "I very rarely get to see my family except on the occasions they find themselves in Skyrim. Years pass by like minutes for me and I have buried far too many friends in that time. Surely as a fellow mage you can relate to that."

The Listener let out a sad groan as he thought about all the loved ones he had seen succumb to old age while he continued to linger on. Indeed the curse of prolonged life was not as kind a notion as many would perceive it to be; no matter how much one enjoyed living. "Yes, it has been painful. As much as you may find it ironic given my position, I have too much an appreciation for life to take my own."

"As do I, which is why I hired you," the elf replied with a smile. He reached for a basin of water and poured himself a glass. "Well, shall we get onto business then?"

The assassin tried to get off the bed, but found himself struggling as the mattress underneath him kept shifting as he tried to adjust his weight. "I think I might just be getting too old for this line of work, friend," the reptile admitted as he reached a hand out towards Lachance.

"The brothers and sisters have been telling you that for years," the spirit said as he clasped onto his caster's wrist and helped pull him to his feet.

"You know I don't listen to a word they say, Lucien." Once he was standing, the Argonian joined Cirion at the table and placed a few drops of the poison into his water glass. "The effects should take place very quickly, you shouldn't feel any pain," KaNack reassured the Altmer.

"Gods know I deserve a painful end," the Mer muttered as he stared into the glass that showed no signs of the water being tainted. "As a Thalmor I've done terribly things to the people of Skyrim. Many that did not deserve it."

"We've all done things we regret," the mage stated as he leaned against the wall which creaked against his weight. "The fact that you admit that you have wronged makes you a better person than most of the Thalmor I've come across."

Cirion chuckled quietly as he raised his glass to the assassin in a toast. "To redemption then." The Mer swallowed the water and placed the glass off to the side, returning his tired look to the Argonian before him. "I suppose this means that I am to go to the Void?"

"Yes, but you'd only suffer if you have wronged the Brotherhood. When you get there, you won't endure any torment, I promise you." The Listener rested a wrinkled clawed hand on the elf's shoulder. "No more pain for you."

"I thank you," Cirion whispered softly. The Altmer shut his eyes and was beginning to succumb to the poison. The assassin watched as the elf's breathing began to slow; the venom was working its way through the Altmer's veins and shutting down his muscles and organs. A few moments passed and Cirion's head tilted back alerting the Argonian that his contract was complete.

"All hail Sithis." KaNack stepped away from the body and turned to Lucien with crossed arms. "Lachance, would you mind placing him in his bed? I want the man's son think that he died in his sleep. I'd do it myself, but…"

"No need to explain yourself, Listener." The spirit bowed politely to his caster and went to work transporting the light and frail body of the High Elf. The Speaker threw the heavy fur skinned blanket over the corpse and returned to the reptile's side. KaNack eyes were half lidded and he hadn't moved from his spot by the wall. "You look tired."

"I'm always tired these days," the Dark Brotherhood leader sighed. "Let's go home."

KaNack and Lachance left the cottage, locking the door behind them. They found Shadowmere grazing in the distance, loyally waiting for her owner to return. The demonic mare's ears pricked up at the sound of a faint whistle floating across the air like a breeze. Letting out a snort, the steed trotted to the Argonian and waited as the mage changed back into the common mage shrouds that he had stored in a bag attached to her saddle.

The Spectral Assassin had to assist the conjurer as he struggled to get up onto her back. Her rider was not as spry as he once was; gone were the days where he could literally leap up onto Shadowmere's back and they'd be off. The horse had learned to be patient though and would remain in place as long as needed.

The Argonian took the reins as Lucien climbed up so that he was sitting behind him. "Farra…" KaNack stopped in midsentence. "Let's just take it easy on the way home, girl." A gentle nudge to her sides and the mare took off in a brisk run rather than her usual breakneck speed.

The moons were full, lighting the way around them as they traveled through the cool night towards Dawnstar. Lachance could sense that something about his caster was off, but he didn't want to think about just what it was. He had a sense of what was coming, but bringing it up would only upset them both. They had only ridden for an hour before Lachance noticed that they were passing a small inn and the mare was heading towards it.

"Listener?"

"I'm too tired to make the trip tonight, Lucien," the assassin muttered solemnly. "It's far too cold; I'd rather spend the night in a warm bed than a bedroll."

This only furthered Lachance's suspicions, but he tried to be more optimistic; that was why he did not argue with the aged reptile. It was not until they got closer that the spirit realized where they were to spend the night and could not help but smile. It was the Nightgate Inn, where as a younger assassin, his Listener had killed the Gourmet with a poisoned apple.

"I remember this place too, Buddy," KaNack chuckled as he reached down to pat Shadowmere on her neck. "You always seemed to get your way, even when I was stubborn as a mule."

The Spectral Assassin jumped down and assisted the Black Hand leader off of the mare's back. Allowing the mage to wrap an arm around him, he helped the Argonian up the small flight of stairs and into the Nightgate Inn.

"By the Eight!" a voice cried out. The Listener laughed quietly and motioned for the innkeeper to relax.

"Ease yourself, friend. My spirit is a kind soul and will do you no harm less you wish me ill," the mage assured the man as Lachance continued to help him towards the front desk where the startled innkeeper was standing.

"I'm sorry," the Nord muttered, still giving the Speaker a wary look. "It's just that I thought for a moment that my building had become haunted. That wouldn't be very good for business, now would it?"

"Some of the best people I know are dead." The mage patted Lucien on his chest and smiled at the keeper as he dropped a small bag of coin on the desk. "I am cold and exhausted. Do you think you can let an old man and his specter have a room for the night?"

"Oh, of course," he stuttered as he swiped up the offered gold. "Sleep anywhere you like, we don't have any guests currently. It's just me and the missus. If you need anything just give me a holler, the name is Jesper."

"Thank you, Jesper," the assassin muttered quietly. The ghost took it upon himself to lead his fatigued caster into one of the rooms and kicked the door closed behind him.

"The innkeeper should consider himself fortunate that the building is not haunted. People have died here as you are very much aware," he chuckled darkly.

"Hush, Buddy."

The mage slid himself into the bed and released a contented sound as he nuzzled into the soft pillow. "There was a time where I could ride for days straight with no rest." The assassin smirked as he felt a warm blanket get thrown over him. "What would I do without you?"

"Died centuries ago, I know that much," the ghost laughed quietly as he took a seat in the chair that was beside the conjurer's bed. KaNack's pale white eyes opened and he beamed at his spiritual guardian. As old as the mage had gotten over the years, Lucien could see that his eyes always remained as bright and full of life as they ever were.

"I keep thinking about what that Mer said," KaNack frowned. "Lingering with a prolonged life as friends and loved ones pass on." The mage shook his head as he wrapped his arms around the pillow. "Many have died while I continue to live. Tullius, J'Zargo, Nazir, Dro'marash, Kaie…" The mage paused and looked sadly at the floor.

"The former Keeper," the spirit finished for him.

"Yes," he choked out.

The Speaker reached forward to rest a comforting hand on the mage's shoulder. The reptile reached out from under the blanket to grasp at the hand. "I know that Wood Elf, Ardwen, is the Keeper, but I just cannot bring myself to call her that. She was chosen and trained by him, but I can't consider calling anyone but him the Keeper."

"You loved him. It's understandable," Lachance sympathized. "What you and Cicero had was powerful. Something much more pure and eternal. You must remember that you have many fond memories to look back upon when you think of him though."

The spirit was relieved when he saw the smile returned to KaNack's face, even though the tears were still being shed.

"Cicero always made me laugh, even when I was the foulest of moods and didn't want to speak to anyone. He would dance, sing and poke at me until he finally pulled me out of my mood. He could never stand to see me unhappy." The reptile sighed contently. "He also was kind and gentle. We quarreled as all people do, but in the end we would always forgive each other. Unlike Brelyna, he knew what I was and embraced it. I never had to hide the real me from my Keeper." The smile was then gone again. "Then came that horrible day when he had to go somewhere I could not follow." KaNack swallowed before continuing. "Bless him, he was dying but he was still doing his damnedest to make me laugh."

"He was a jester to the bitter end," the Speaker insisted simply.

"He told me, 'Don't cry, Listener! If you cry, poor Cicero will cry too and a fool should leave the world with a smile!'" The mage shook his head. "Damn him, he made me laugh right before he died. He had that smirk of his imprinted on his face, frozen in a permanent state of mirth." The Argonian released a shaky breath. "I have laughed since then, but not like before Cicero died. No one could ever make me laugh the way he did."

"My Listener?"

"That's why I keep myself busy with these contracts," the reptile confessed. "Not because I want to, but I have to. When I am on the hunt, I forget for a brief moment that Cicero is gone. Killing keeps me from dying inside." He squeezed Lucien's hand tightly. "Even after two centuries, every time I return to the sanctuary I expect to see him dancing over to greet me." A tear crawled down his scaled cheek. "He doesn't though. He's not there…he's never there."

"One day you will see him again," Lachance assured the grieving assassin.

"Will he still love me? Can one even still be in love in the Void? Will Cicero even be the same?" the Argonian asked sadly. "Those years of isolation in Cheydinhal altered him, Lucien. I fear that when we do see one another again that he won't be the person I fell in love with. You told me yourself that Cicero seemed different when you saw him."

"Yes," Lachance stated grimly. "Love, however, is an emotion that is guided by one's heart, not his mind. Those years in Cheydinhal did not affect the Keeper's heart."

That bit of information did bring the older reptile a welcoming sense of comfort and relief. "Thank you."

The Speaker grimaced as he suddenly felt himself feeling faint. He knew what was happening and his suspicions had been confirmed. "You're very tired, Listener," the ghost said. "You should try and get some rest; you have a big day ahead of you."

"We're just going home, aren't we?"

"Yes," the ghost answered sadly. "We're going home."

The Argonian yawned and shut his eyes, but kept Lachance's hand gripped in his. "By Sithis, I don't think I've ever felt this drowsy before."

"Sleep," the Speaker insisted. "I will be right here by your side."

"Night, Buddy," the mage uttered quietly, his voice slightly muffled from the pillow.

"Goodnight, my Brother."

KaNack fell asleep and the Spectral Assassin remained settled in his chair, never taking his eyes off the Argonian for a second. He should have felt sad, but he knew that this day had to come eventually. The chapter of KaNack the mage was coming to an end and a new one was about to begin with the Dunmer Vytalas. There would be great mourning amongst the assassins, but the Dark Brotherhood would continue to thrive as it always had.

It was by the will of Sithis that the Speaker returned to the caster with the promise that as long as he managed to keep the Listener alive, he would be allowed to come to Tamriel's plane when called.

For more than two hundred and fifty years, he had protected and served the red and black mage to the best of his ability. Lucien had seen him grow from a young impatient assassin into the seasoned killer he was today.

The specter was there when he was betrayed by Astrid and when he was mourning the loss of his Imperial lover. Throughout all the years, KaNack had never treated him as anything less than his equal. Because of the Dark Brotherhood leader, the name Lachance was once again known and revered by all the Brothers and Sisters across Tamriel. If this was to be his final conjurer before being banished permanently to the Void, the Speaker was glad it had been him. The Argonian was his Listener, his Brother and most importantly his friend.

Lachance had done the best he could and guarded the reptile's life as though he were his own flesh and blood, but there were some things that even the Spectral Assassin couldn't protect his caster from.

The ghost stirred as he felt himself became weightless and noticed that his form was beginning to slowly fall into ash. The Listener was gone, but Lucien could not help but smile as he looked out the window to see the land of Tamriel one last time before being sent to the Void. He had kept his promise; KaNack did not die alone.

The following morning the innkeeper went outside to fetch water from the well, but was shocked when he noticed that the black mare that had been there the previous night had vanished.

"Damn it! That old man isn't going to be happy about this!" Jesper exclaimed. He hurried back into the Nightgate Inn and knocked on the Argonian's door. "Sir? Sir, I am sorry to wake you, but your horse seems to have run off. Would you like me to send for a carriage?"

The innkeeper waited for a response, but received none.

"Can you hear me? I said your horse is gone!"

More silence. The man muttered to himself as he opened the door. If he refrained from alerting the elder reptile to the situation, the Argonian might take offense and order the ghost to attack him. Once he was inside, the Nord was slightly taken aback by the scene before him.

The red and black lizard seemed to still be asleep, but by his bedside was a smoking pile of blue ash. Jesper could only assume that it had been the old man's spirit. He made his way over to the bed and gently patted the Argonian's leg. "Hey, I need you to wake up, friend."

The Nord frowned when he still failed to get a response. The man leaned forward and pressed two fingers along the red skin of the reptile's throat and grimaced. "Damn, poor fellah. Guess time finally caught up to you. Don't worry; I'll make sure you get a proper burial."

Jesper began to fumble through the Argonian's satchel; not that he meant to be disrespectful, but only because he felt that there might be something on him that would alert him to his identity. Otherwise he'd have to end up burying the man in an unmarked grave in the local cemetery. The man frowned when he felt something round and metal and pulled out a golden amulet. He stared at it for a few moment and his eyes widened. "By Shor's beard…Haran!"

The innkeeper's wife hurried over to the door and poked her head in.

"What's wrong?"

Jesper sped over to her and showed her the pendent that had the Eye of Winterhold engraved into it with an Imperial dragon in the pupil. "I read stories about this in my youth! This is an amulet of the Winterhold Five!"

The two turned back to look at the body.

"My gods, if he's an Argonian and that was in his possession; that makes him…"

"The arch mage of Winterhold and the Dragonborn," the man finished sadly. "We have to send word to Winterhold and fast. Get my horse ready."

The woman hurried to get her husband's steed prepared for the long journey to Winterhold. There was to be great mourning amongst the members of the college as well as the residents of Skyrim.

Jesper sighed as he took a seat in the empty chair by the Argonian's bed. "I am saddened that you have left us, Dragonborn. You were a legend; we were honored to have kept you dry and warm in your final moments. I hope wherever your soul has gone that you are happy."


	2. Reunion

"KaNack? Child, it's time for you to get up."

The Argonian grumbled as he stretched his arms and legs; the familiar voice of his spiritual guardian pulled him from of his slumber. The first thing he became aware of was that he was laying on something flat and hard, not a soft and warm mattress.

Opening his eyes, the mage saw that he was in a vast and colorless wasteland. Gray stone ground, looming black mountains and pale cloudy skies. Where was he?

"Huh?" The caster sat up and for the first time in decades, he didn't ache. No cracking bones and no stiff joints. He stared at his claws and they were no longer wrinkled, they looked healthy and smooth as they had when he was in his prime. "What is…?" Then he noticed he was donned in his arch mage robes. The reptile staggered to his feet trying to grasp on what had happened to him since he had fallen asleep in the Nightgate Inn. "How did…?"

"It's jolting and confusing for all of us at first, I know."

The Argonian turned around and flinched at the sight of the strange man before him. His face was slightly obscured by the large black hooded cloak he was wearing, but the Dark Brotherhood leader recognized it as the garb of the Black Hand.

"Confusing is putting it mildly," KaNack muttered as he approached the being. "Where am I? What happened to me?" The caster's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

A soft chuckle sounded from the shrouded man as he pulled back his hood to reveal his face. "You don't recognize me? I'm hurt; we've known each other for centuries."

The assassin stepped closer and scanned over the unfamiliar person's face. The stranger looked to be in his late forties; his lower jaw was riddled with stubble and he had long brown hair that was pulled back tightly in a neat ponytail. The caster blinked a few times and suddenly the facial structure started to become familiar to him, he had just never seen it in the flesh until now.

"Buddy?"

The Speaker managed a smile and nodded his head to the caster. "I have been called many things in my lifetime- Brother, Speaker, Lucien Lachance, the Spectral Assassin, the Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood. You were the first, however, to ever call me 'Buddy'."

KaNack reached behind his head to clasp his claws together as his eyes began to wander about the land surrounding them. "I don't understand."

"You're in the Void, child," Lucien answered him simply. "You passed away in the middle of the night. Your time as Listener for the Dark Brotherhood has come to an end."

"Oh."

It started to make sense to the reptile now. Why his scales no longer appeared wrinkled, how he had ended up in his preferred shrouds of the Arch Mage, the absence of emotional sensation of any kind. He was dead.

Lachance placed a hand on the stunned conjurer's shoulder and began to guide him through the mountainous realm before them.

"I was startled when I awoke here after the horrors and anguish of Applewatch," the Speaker admitted to the mage. "Fortunately for all of Sithis' followers, we are greeted by a familiar face upon our arrival." He continued to smile. "Vincente was there to welcome me and answer the many questions I had. Since I had been with you the longest, it only made sense for me to be the one to receive you in this plane. Now comes one of the most rewarding parts of guiding you through the Void."

The two came to a stop and Lucien pointed out towards a horse in the distance that was pawing at the earth, looking very much lost. "There is someone who has been waiting very patiently for you, KaNack."

Walking away from the Speaker, the mage approached the animal cautiously. He could tell that it was not Shadowmere due to the lack of her glowing red eyes. He clicked his tongue causing the horse's head to rise and its ears to stand erect. It whinnied loudly and trotted to the reptile nosing its snout into his shoulder.

It was a mare, chocolate in color with large and trusting brown eyes. No sooner had the assassin placed a hand on the side of her face that he knew at once who this creature was. The last time he had seen her she had been in searing pain, a shell of her former self and had been killed in an act of mercy. She was his loyal steed, his faithful companion, the one who never failed him and served the Brotherhood to her final moments.

"Atronach," he whispered under his breath. The mare nickered gently as KaNack wrapped an arm around her neck as his other hand stroked her velvet fur. "My dearest mare, I could never forget you."

He frowned when he noticed that despite being reunited with his beloved horse, he felt nothing. Neither relief nor joy, he might as well have been embracing some random animal. "Lucien," he muttered. "I don't feel anything."

"That is how it must be, child," Lachance explained as he approached the two and patted the mare on her side. "As I've told you, there is no happiness or sorrow. We are absent of any kind of emotion here, that is why it is called 'The Void'." He gestured towards Atronach's saddle. "Come, there are still others that have been waiting to see you."

KaNack grasped onto the saddle and was pleasantly surprised that for the first time in decades, he was able to mount a horse without any assistance. He looked back down at his spiritual guardian; he was still trying to come to terms with seeing him in his mortal form and not the transparent blue he had been accustomed to.

"Where is Shadowmere?"

"I suspect back at the Dawnstar Sanctuary," Lucien answered simply. "She is bearing the Blade of Woe and must bring it to her new owner."

"Vytalas," the Argonian remarked with a nod. "He's a strong and loyal man; he's more than ready to lead the Dark Brotherhood." It felt just like old times as the mage reached down to grasp Lucien's arm and pulled him up into the saddle behind him. "So, where exactly are we supposed to go?"

"Just start riding," the Speaker insisted. "One does not simply find his way through the Void. You have to allow your faith to guide you. If you desire to find a soul hard enough, you will be able to find it no matter where it may be hiding in this realm."

The mage clicked his tongue twice loudly and Atronach took off in a full gallop. The Argonian couldn't understand how what his guardian told him was possible. Everything looked exactly the same to him. Jagged black mountains and dismal gray stone. How could mere faith direct him to a specific soul in a world as expansive as the Void?

As KaNack continued to lead Atronach through the mountainous realm, he couldn't help but be less than impressed by the sight around him. He had hoped that when the time came for him to be sent to the Void that that he would feel at home. This realm lacked all the life and colors of the Nordic land of the dead, Sovngarde. The reptile was honored to be in Sithis' plane, but selfishly had expected more.

The two had not ridden for more than a few minutes before the assassin noticed a few thralls in the distance that appeared to be in the midst of a discussion. As he got closer KaNack noticed the familiar garbs on one of them and then it hit him…It was his fallen Brother!

The Speaker smiled as the Argonian slid off Atronach and began to run towards the thralls, risking tripping over his own feet in his rush to get to them. Lachance had a feeling that the first souls that would have come to mind would have been the family he had lost over the years since he was coming to terms with his own death.

"Veezara!"

As soon as he reached the thrall the mage clasped his hands on the shoulders of the Shadowscale who was still wearing his battle armor proudly. The Argonian smirked at him and returned the gesture.

"Cousin, I was wondering when you would eventually get your ass killed up there," the green scaled assassin said. He then poked at the stub that had been KaNack's horn. "You look stupid."

"Well I didn't really have a choice in the matter, cousin. Do you think I wanted to go through life with a single horn?"

The caster grunted as he felt a hand strike the back of his head. It didn't hurt, there was no pain in the Void, but the gesture was one that was all too familiar to him.

"Three hundred years old and you're still whining!"

KaNack eyes widened and he slowly turned to face the other thrall that had been speaking with Veezara. The man looked to be in his thirties. His hair was jet black and his face clear of wrinkles, but this was a visage the Argonian would never be able to forget. The wizard grunted as the reptile pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Hello, Festus."

"Hmmph, you're getting mushy," Krex muttered. "I thought there weren't any emotions in the Void."

"I can pretend, can't I?" the assassin asked quietly as he tightened his hold on the man who had trained him. He was not the frail old man the caster remembered, but it was still his beloved cantankerous uncle from the Falkreath Sanctuary.

It was driving him mad that after so many years of a life where he always embraced his feelings he now lacked the ability to feel a damn thing. The assassin had been reunited with his fallen brothers and yet he felt nothing. Seeing Festus Krex made KaNack wish that he could still feel emotion. He feigned joy as it was all he could do to try and stress to his tutor just how much he had missed him. The wizard finally shoved the conjurer off having had enough of the sentimental garbage.

"Hugs and snuggles?! I thought this was a place for assassins, not sissies!"

Harsh words, but the Argonian knew the man well enough that this was simply his way. Even in the Void Festus embraced the whole 'tough love' notion.

There were so many others that must have been residing in the Dread Father's realm. Gabriella, Nazir, Dro'marash, Kaie, Shaleez and many others whom KaNack had to bury over the years. They were all here somewhere, it was just a matter of locating them. It was a grand to once again be with his tutor and cousin, but when he allowed his faith to guide him he was trying to focus on the ones he cared about the most. It was a pleasant surprise to find Veezara and Krex, but they hadn't been the ones he had hoped to find. He was still missing…The most important one had yet to be found.

"Oh Sithis, she's coming!" Lucien exclaimed suddenly as he quickly took a knee as did all the other two thralls. KaNack stared down at the bowing assassins and blinked dumbly.

"What are you all doing?"

"Get down, cousin!" hissed Veezara as he grabbed the Argonian by his robes and pulled him to the ground. "You don't want to insult her!"

"Who?"

Then it happened, the mage could start to feel a tingling sensation within him. It was happiness, he felt happy! He could sense the joyous sensation of once again being with the family he had lost to the Penitus Oculatus. KaNack couldn't help but smile which earned him a smack from Festus.

"Karrot, don't smile and keep your head down for pity's sake!"

A feminine voice laughed in the distance making the Dark Brotherhood member turn to the sound. A beautiful and tall Dunmer was approaching them, her eyes sparkling like rubies and a charming smile gracing her dark gray lips.

"Leave the boy be," she insisted as she paused before them. "It's his first day after all. We don't want him to see me as some kind of fearsome queen. Well, at least not yet." The Mer knelt so that she was at eye level with the Argonian. "Hello, KaNack. Do you know who I am?" she asked as she brushed her slender fingers along his cheek.

"By Sithis, I wish I could say yes," he answered shamefully, unable to look away from the beauty before him. "I would never be able to forget one as stunning as yourself."

"Oh, charming," she purred. "You are too charming." She took his claws in her hands and helped the mage to his feet before embracing his arm like a smitten lover. "I won't bore you with any titles. You will come to understand how things work down here soon enough." She started to guide him away from the thralls. "Come with me. I have been waiting far too long for this and it's my moment to share alone."

KaNack frowned and looked backwards to Lachance who still had his head bowed low in respect. He didn't want to be separated from his family, especially since he seemed to be able to embrace all the emotions that had been numbed after he had been hurled into the Void. However, something in the back of his head was telling him that refusing to accompany this she-elf would be a grave mistake.

The two strolled through the colorless plains of the realm together all the while the reptile continued to feel an ache worsening deep within his chest. Despite the warm and comforting sensation he got just by standing next to the magnificent creature, his heart was telling him he needed to find the missing piece of his heart. The Dark Elf smiled wider as she gave KaNack's arm a squeeze.

"What is on your mind, little thrall?"

"So many things," he answered sadly. "One is how is it that I can suddenly embrace my feelings again?"

"Ah, I get that question a lot," she smirked. "There are a few beings in the Void who carry an aura amongst them that removes the cloak of the plane. The effects of this realm do not apply to you so long as I close enough for my aura to reach you. Just as your friend 'Buddy' there could express emotion when you summoned him, so can you when you are in my presence."

"Buddy," he repeated the name. "He's never going to get to return to Tamriel, is he?"

"His time has come to an end and you will continue where he left off by providing the members of the Dark Brotherhood with an extra man in battle and keep them from straying from the path." She reached under the mage's hood to run her fingers through his soft crimson feathers. "If it's any consolation, he lasted a lot longer than I thought he would. Who have believed that in the dangerous life you lived that you would have succumbed to old age?"

"This means that I am the new Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood?"

The conjurer flinched as she tapped the tip of his snout with her finger.

"You are a clever boy, KaNack. Don't worry; I am sure that your sanctuary will give you some time to adjust here before they drag you up to their world to assist them with petty issues."

The reptile sighed heavily as he looked down at the ground. This is not go unnoticed by the she-elf.

"My aura has made you sad. Your days of aching bones and dying muscles are over. What troubles you, my dear?" the Mer asked as she rested a hand against his cheek. "Talk to Mother like you have so many times before."

"Mother?" he gasped. It all suddenly made sense to him now. Why her voice sounded so familiar to him, the reasoning for Lucien and the others to stop what they were doing to show her respect. The former Listener became aware of just whom he was speaking to. He dropped to a knee and bowed his head low to the ground. "Night Mother! Forgive me; I did not realize it was you!"

"Get up, you fetcher!" she laughed as she knocked the mage over with her foot. KaNack sat up and stared at the Unholy Matron in confusion. "There will be plenty of time to grovel when my ego needs further stroking. Right now all I want is for you to answer my question, why are you sad?"

The Argonian rested his arms on his knees as he stared off in the never ending gray horizon.

"I thought he'd be with the others," the assassin remarked quietly as he lowered his head. "Of anyone I came upon in the Void, I had expected him with the other loved ones I had lost."

The Unholy Matron chuckled behind a palm as she gazed thoughtfully down at her former Listener. She could see that his heart was slowly breaking because he had yet to come across the one thrall that meant the most to him.

"You speak of my old Keeper, the Imperial." The mage pulled himself to his feet, staring at the Mer with wide and hopeful eyes. "Yes, he is here. However, he might be a little different from the man you remember."

"I've been deprived of his company for what feels like a lifetime. I don't care if he spits in my face the moment he lays eyes upon me, I want to see Cicero."

The Night Mother pointed a bony gray finger towards an ominous looking cave in the distance. "He's right in there, Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood. Go to him and see if you can still love a man who is not Laughter Incarnate."

"What was that, my lady?"

"You won't find a jester in there, my dear boy," the Dunmer explained as she rested her hands on her hips. "You see, when you come to the Void, you come here as what you thought yourself as. You, my glutton for punishment, have seen fit to keep your battle scars because that is what you believe defines youself as a Son of Sithis. The loving Keeper?" she grinned. "He's always seen himself as sane."

"That's not what he told me," the mage remarked.

"What he told you and what he believed were two completely different things."

The caster turned away from the Dark Elf and started towards the cave. He could tell by the apprehension growing in his chest that the Unholy Matron had every intention of staying close enough so that there would be no feelings hidden under the cloak of the deadening Void. The Argonian didn't care though, he wanted to feel. For better or worse, he didn't want to miss a single emotion.

He stepped into the mouth of the cave and could see a faint light glowing in the distance. Gulping, he moved ever forward not quite sure whom he was going to come upon. The only Cicero he had ever known was the jester, the merry man, the Fool of Hearts. They were first brought together because they both loved to laugh, would they even have anything in common now that his mind was untainted by the years of solitude in Cheydinhal?

The assassin gasped at the sight before him. After a lifetime of being apart, there was his Keeper. The Imperial did not seem to notice him at all; he was far too busy reading an old tome by the eternal magelight that was glowing in the small cavern. It looked like Cicero and yet it did not. He still had the small face and same long auburn hair flowing over his shoulders. He was draped in his Keeping robes, instead of his familiar motley. He seemed so at ease and daresay, bored.

"Let me guess, someone stole your sweet roll?" KaNack asked with a smile. He didn't know what else to possibly say. How could he possibly greet his Keeper? The Imperial might have been a completely different person from the man he knew centuries ago, but surely his tendency for sweets hadn't changed.

Cicero turned his head and his golden eyes widened at the sight of his former lover standing before him. The tome slid out of his hands as he rose to his feet.

"By Sithis, KaNack," he uttered in a soft and calming tone.

'That's not Cicero's voice!' the reptile thought to himself. His Keeper's voice was high pitched and had a squeak to it.

"I see you no longer favor those jester robes of yours," the Argonian observed as he approached the smaller man hugging himself. It was taking everything to keep from running over and kissing him. He had to maintain self control until he knew who the true Cicero was.

"Those?" Cicero brushed some dust from his Keeping shroud. "Those were the clothes I wore when I had been touched by the madness. These are the true garments I was proud to be wearing. I was never a jester, KaNack. That fool was just a result of years of isolation with only the voices in my head to keep me company." He managed a small smile. "I was an assassin first, a Keeper second, but never a clown."

"You weren't a clown, you were a jester," the mage correct sadly as he took a seat on a black boulder beside Cicero.

"It's the same thing."

KaNack gritted his teeth as he tried to remind himself that despite the fact that he did not sound or think like his dearest companion, this was still his Cicero. The Imperial took a seat next to him, sensing the awkwardness of the situation.

"The Night Mother is nearby it seems," he observed, avoiding eye contact. He quickly tried to change the subject. "Did you know that she was actually the one to greet me when I came to the Void? The Unholy Matron herself; I finally was able to hear her voice."

"Madness is merry and merriment's might…" The Argonian sang softly before turning to his Keeper expectantly. A part of the mage ached when all the Imperial did was stare at him dumbly, refusing to finish the limerick. "For Sithis sake, Cicero, was there any part of you I knew that was real?" he hissed at him.

"What do you want me to say? I was a demented man, KaNack," Cicero answered stiffly. "Do you think any respectable assassin would want to embrace the persona of a loud and obnoxious jester?" He scowled at the reptile. "There was a reason most of the family hated me when I came to Falkreath. I was an idiot."

"I feel like I am talking to a complete stranger," the caster groaned as he held his face in his hands. "Would we even have become friends if you had remained the same from Cheydinhal?"

"You have no idea what it's like to slowly lose your mind and become something you are not," the Imperial insisted with a touch of resentment in his voice. "I would like to think that we would have at least had a mutual respect for one another."

"I don't need respect! I've dealt with more than two centuries of respect and it did nothing to numb me to the pain of losing you!" KaNack shouted as he stood up from the rock and stared at his Keeper in distraught. "Cicero, do you even still love me?" The Argonian fell to his knees as he rested his head in the Imperial's lap. "Was that even real? Don't tell me I had to endure a lifetime without you just for an eternity of the same."

The assassin could not hold back his tears as he gripped the dark red shrouds of the Keeping robes in tight claws. "Cicero, there was never anyone else for me once you died," he choked out. "Every day, every month, every year, every century I had to endure without someone to love with both my heart and soul."

"Surely there must have been at least one you…."

"No!" he snarled pulling away from the Imperial. "Not a one! How could anyone possibly replace you?! How could I possibly think of sharing a bed when all I would ever be able to think about is you! I was alone, Cicero! I had brothers and sisters, but without you I was completely alone!"

"What do you want me to say?" the Keeper asked patiently.

"I want you to tell me if our love was real or if it was just another blemish you can blame the Fool of Hearts for." The caster sat down on his haunches as he stared into the golden eyes of his dearest companion. "Answer me honestly, Cicero."

"I can see you're upset," the Imperial stated as he stood up from the rock.

"You damn right I'm upset!" he snarled, rising to his feet. "I came here expecting to see my beloved jester and all I find this soft spoken stranger in a cloak who won't even give me a straight answer!"

"How do you think I feel?" the Keeper growled back at him. "Look at what you are wearing! Arch Mage robes?" Cicero pointed furiously to the shrouds. "Why aren't you in the Dark Brotherhood garb?! Are your loyalties are more inclined to that stupid school and not our guild?!"

KaNack chuckled, not because he was amused but because he was growing furious. "Oh, don't you dare try and question my loyalties, Cicero. I've more than proven my devotion to the Black Hand and Sithis."

"Because you are the new Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood?" he sneered back at him. "Please, you whined and bitched more than some of the women I've killed in the past. You were probably given this position so that the Void would be free of all your drama. I can't even begin to fathom how poor Lucien managed to endure it for so long." He scowled over at the Argonian. "Maybe I had to be crazy to swallow all of your pettiness during our time together."

A snarl echoed through the cave as the caster charged into the Imperial and pinned him against the cave walls, his upper lip curled revealing rows of small sharp teeth. Cicero only snorted and rolled his eyes in response.

"And that wretched temper was also a poor quality of yours," he remarked bitterly. "You could have lived to be five hundred and you'd still be a child prone to tantrums whenever you didn't get your way." He glowered into the burning eyes of the conjurer.

"You're one to call me childish! Your piercing voice gave me headaches! You would never shut up, no matter how many times I asked it of you," he growled. "You have no idea of just how much of a pain you truly were! I had to bend over backwards and stick my neck out because there were those who felt you were a poor representation of our guild! The Black Hand themselves saw you as an embarrassment that needed to be removed once you had finished training your successor! I fought for you, Cicero! You would have been dead long ago if not for me!"

"Just to give you more years to gripe and moan about poor little you being all alone in this big cold world?" the Keeper remarked venomously. "You're pathetic! By Sithis, I despise you."

"I hate you as well!" the Argonian snapped back at him. "You were an idiot, but you were my idiot! Now you're just a complete stranger! There's not one thing about you that that even resembles the man I mourned in life!" He gripped the Imperial's robes in tight fists, shaking him each time his voice grew louder in volume. "I want my jester! I want my Fool of Hearts! I want my Keeper! I want my Cicero!"

"Well that's too bad, isn't it, Listener?!" he shrieked in that familiar piercing voice.

The two stared at each other resentfully for a few moments, both trembling in anger. The Keeper then grasped the reptile by the back of his head and pulled him closer, pressing his lips to his. KaNack grabbed the Imperial's backside in his claws and pulled him closer as his slender reptilian tongue worked its way into Cicero's mouth, allowing no area to remain untouched. The two just as suddenly broke off the kiss, equally confused.

"What in Oblivion just happened?" Cicero asked quietly.

"I don't know, but I seem to remember that most of our quarrels ended like this," the Argonian rasped as he pressed his forehead against the Imperial's. "It was your little way of winning whatever we were fighting about."

"Good, that means I won." He pushed the reptile to the ground and pounced on top of him, nibbling at his neck and grasping his crimson feathers in tight fists.

"Ow! By Sithis, I forgot how rough you were!" He grasped the hood of Cicero's shroud and pulled it back, it was as though he were once again staring into the face of his beloved little fool. Gone was the awkward and quiet man he found in the cave, he could see his Cicero now.

"Hmmph." The Keeper sat up slightly and smirked towards the cave entrance. "Mother is watching us you know."

"Gods know she's been waiting for this almost as long as I have," KaNack laughed as he traced the smaller man's jawline with a curled finger. "My dearest Keeper, I've missed you so much. Life was just too damn long and boring without you in it."

"Getting my mind back made me realize just how boring life is without the laughter," the Imperial muttered as rested his head on the mage's chest and wrapped his arms around him. "Did you truly have no one else after I died?"

"Not a soul."

"Not even the soul of Lucien Lachance?" the Keeper questioned, a wicked grin forming on his face. KaNack burst out into laughter, something he had not done since the Keeper had been sent to the Void.

"By Sithis, Cicero! He's practically my father!"

"You could have called him 'Daddy' then."

Now the Imperial was giggling madly as the mage howled so loudly that his throat began to hurt. He took the Keeper's chin in his hand as he stared into the golden orbs that seemed to sparkle with mischief.

"I knew you were still in there," the caster said as he shook his head. "I knew you were in there somewhere, Cicero."

This was the Fool of Hearts he remembered; the man he had fallen in love with and cherished every day they had together. Either the jester had broken free and was once again invading the Keeper's mind, or perhaps Cicero bizarre personality was not entirely to blame due to Cheydinhal.

KaNack's eyes darted to the side and then returned back to his lover. "You do realize that we can only truly enjoy every moment of this so long as the Unholy Matron is nearby?"

"This must be why she ordered me to stay in this cavern until I was told otherwise," Cicero mused as he began to knead at the Argonian's robes like a kitten. "Mother wanted a private show."

The reptile huffed in amusement before tilted his head up to touch noses with his lover.

"We mustn't disappoint Mother, right?"

"No, never!"

KaNack sat up and pulled the Imperial closer to him. "You know, eventually someone in the Dark Brotherhood is going to summon me and I will have no choice but to return to Tamriel's plane." A twisted smile formed on his scaled face. "By Sithis though, I hope it's not anytime soon." He purred as Cicero nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "We have a lot of catching up to do."


	3. Old Friends

There were so many that wished to attend the Dragonborn's funeral that the service had to be held outside the town of Winterhold rather than in the courtyard like Onmund and J'Zargo when they had passed on. So many people over the years had been touched by the Argonian, whether he had saved their village from a dragon, protected them from rogue Thalmor soldiers or was simply a beloved instructor from the college.

Some were recent friends made along the way while others were decedents of those whom KaNack had befriended in his greener days. Nothing changed the fact that this was a devastating loss, yet no one felt that he had been ripped cruelly from them. The mage had lived a full life, no one could deny that.

After the service a select few were allowed to accompany the newly named Arch Mage into the headmaster's quarters. KaNack had named Brelyna to be his successor long ago for he knew that she loved the school as much as he did and would lead the future generation of mages to greatness.

Hundreds had come to the funeral, but she permitted only five to mingle in the Hall of the Elements. Three of the guests came from the bloodlines of members of the Winterhold Five and all were teachers at the school.

Ma'zaka was arrogant and prideful just like his ancestor J'Zargo. The Khajiit taught the art of Illusion magic. He did not get to see as much of KaNack as the others, but he knew enough about the Argonian to know that he was a man worthy of his admiration.

Brond, the half-elf offspring of Onmund and Brelas, and a spitting image of the gentle giant of Winterhold, save for his pointy ears. The mage was a master of fire and frost spells, but those lessons were taught by his mother. He specialized in the art of Alteration.

Arvena, daughter of Brelyna and her second husband Traven, was a beautiful woman and much to her mother's surprise seemed favored the art of Conjuration. The other instructors would tease her mother that she was secretly the offspring of her first husband, but one look at Arvena was proof enough to tell that she was a pure blooded Dark Elf.

"I can't believe that he's really gone," Brond muttered as he brushed his dark braids away from his face. "He always was there for me growing up. When Dad was killed, KaNack made time to sit down and tell me stories about my father and their adventures together as students." He smiled at Ma'zaka. "He was always telling me that my dad would have been so proud of the man I had become and he would see to it that both my mother and I would be with him again in Sovngarde."

"How would he be able to manage that?" Arvena asked.

"I have no idea, but the Argonian was adamant that it would happen." He sipped at his wine before continuing. "My mother was furious at him for telling such fibs, but I knew KaNack long enough to realize it's very hard to tell truth from a lie with him. I have my suspicions that he did find his way back to Sovngarde and convince Shor himself to let us in when we passed on."

"When I was a student here, I got to see the Arch Mage a lot," the Dark Elf grinned. "He was thrilled that I seemed to have a gift for conjuration. KaNack would give me private lessons in the art of summoning spirits. He and my mother weren't together anymore, but he still treated me as though I were his own daughter."

"You know," the Khajiit began, "if KaNack had been your father you would get to be wearing one of these little trinkets yourself now." The feline tapped at the Winterhold Five amulet that was dangling from his neck. Both he and Brond were given the pendants when they had reached a certain age and were honored to be in possession of such a piece of history.

"I don't need a necklace to be reminded of how great a wizard KaNack was," the Dunmer answered sharply. "I have memories and to me they mean more than some engraved hunk of metal." The she-elf turned to look over at her parents that were speaking with the Destruction arts teacher. "My mother and Aunty Brelas seem to be handling themselves okay. I haven't so much as seen a single tear from my mom."

"We all mourn in our own way," Brond explained with a shrug. "I mean, they were friends but I always sensed a hint of animosity from her whenever they were together."

"You think she hated the Arch Mage?" the feline asked.

"I know she didn't love him anymore."

Brelyna stayed close to her husband as she spoke with her best friend, Brelas. It was a very tiring day for her. As new Arch Mage, everyone had expected her to give a long drawn out speech like KaNack had done when Onmund and J'Zargo had passed on. She was fairly certain that no one had felt she truly gave KaNack justice, but had been too kind to confront her about it.

"I can't believe the two of us are the only ones left of our little guild," the Bosmer remarked sadly, gazing into her goblet of wine. "Such is the way when the eternal blood of the Mer runs through our veins, hmm?"

"Three hundred is a good life span, especially for a member of the beast race, Brelas," Brelyna said as she rested her head on the shoulder of her spouse.

"It's just a shame he didn't have a chance to have any children. He was the only one who did not get to keep the bloodline going. Julianos help me; I would love to have had a couple of black and red snarky brats running around the school casting conjurations left and right."

"That was his choice," the male Dunmer insisted. "No one stopped him from finding someone else." He smiled at his wife. "Not that I am complaining. Had he not let my Brelyna go, the two of us never would have gotten together."

The Dark Elf smiled and kissed Traven before hugging his arm tighter.

"Yes, it's good when you can find someone who truly understands and adores you," Brelas stated quietly as she stared into the fireplace.

"You know, I have quite a few single Wood Elf friends, Brelas," the man began, "if you are interested in finding someone."

The Bosmer shot him a cold look. "Thanks, but unlike Brelyna, I didn't have a choice in leaving my husband," she hissed bitterly.

"Brelas, it's been centuries," the Arch Mage sighed. "Don't you think it's time to move on?"

"How can I when every time I look in my son's face I see him?" The Wood Elf tried to hold back the tears as she thought about her late husband. "I'm glad you were able to find happiness with Traven, Brel, but I'm still in love with Onmund and I always will be."

Traven grimaced feeling guilty for bringing up the Nord when it was apparent that Brelas was never planning on ever re-marrying or even seeing anyone else the way she did him.

He and Brelyna had met about five years after KaNack and she had separated and Traven was everything she ever could have hoped for. Strong, loyal, and most importantly, he was not an assassin. She had been worried that KaNack would become jealous as he had a very terrible temper, but as it turned out he had found someone as well. The Dunmer didn't ask who it was, she didn't care. All the Mer had known was that it finally got the reptile to stop staring at her with those sad eyes of his and was finally moving on.

She discovered that it had been Cicero who had replaced her when the Imperial finally succumbed to old age. He could not talk to Brelas about it, so Brelyna had to make time to try and comfort him when business at the school forced him to temporarily be kept from the Brotherhood. He couldn't stay with the Brotherhood to mourn when he still had his responsibilities as an Arch Mage. He would seek her out talk to while trying to get over the devastating loss. It was only a week, but it felt like forever to her.

The Dunmer perked up when he heard the great doors open.

"Sorry we're late; someone must have forgotten to send out our invitations."

The mages turned to the voice and were surprised to see a Dunmer and Breton standing before them. The Mer was tall and despite the black shroud he was wearing, it was apparent that he was quite muscular. The Breton had a grey tint to her skin and her black dress was most flattering on her. Except for Brelyna, the others did not know who these two were or why they had barged in on their private gathering.

The Arch Mage scowled as the two approached her. Even after not seeing him for centuries, she recognized the archer assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. She had hoped that KaNack would have been the only assassin she would ever have had to lay eyes upon after she left the sanctuary. She purposely avoided talking to him about his secret life and had tried to forget about the assassins of the past. She should have known that HE would still have been around though. The other killers may have passed on with time, but he was still very much alive.

"Brelyna, it has been quite some time, my dear," he remarked, resentment clear in his eyes. The strange Mer motioned towards the younger mages as he looked at the Breton next to him. "Vianna, why don't you go introduce yourself to the others. Share some stories of our dearest friend …the ones we SPOKE about."

"Yes, Father."

The Dunmer smiled as he watched the girl wander off. "Kids, they grow up so fast, hmm? One minute they are just learning to walk, next thing you know they are over a hundred years old."

"What in Oblivion are you doing here?" the Arch Mage hissed at him. "I didn't…" She looked nervously at her friends and then back at the elf. "I didn't send word out to you, Vytalas."

"Yes, that made it most difficult to get here in time." He glowered at her. "Not all of us could attend a funeral at this time of day."

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but this is a private gathering," Traven growled at the Dunmer. "I suggest you leave at once."

"Yes, that is not going to be happening, I'm afraid," Vytalas confessed as he crossed his arms. "See, I was closer to KaNack than any of you ever were." His eyes flashed at the she-elf. "Not a wise move to try and keep this from KaNack's other family, Brelyna. Did you honestly think we wouldn't find out?"

"Please don't start anything," she pleaded with the man. "Not here."

Traven bared his teeth in a snarl when he saw how distressed the stranger was making his wife. "This is a gathering of close family and friends. Get out of here before I hurl your disrespectful ass out the door," he threatened as he positioned himself between his wife and Vytalas.

The archer snorted, not at all impressed by the angry elf before him. "Who is this, Brelyna? If he is someone you care about, I suggest you tell him to watch his tone with me."

"Traven, don't." The Arch Mage pulled the large Dunmer back and hugged his arm tightly. "He's my husband, Vytalas."

"Your husband?" he repeated with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Well, I guess both you and KaNack managed to move on after that nasty business." He bowed gracefully before the group. "I apologize for my abrupt entrance. You see, I was one of the Argonian's closest acquaintances," he gave them a wicked grin; "we were practically brothers."

"Can we speak in private, please Vytalas?" she asked stiffly. The assassin only smiled as he followed after her out of the Arch Mage quarters.

"That was creepy," Brelas muttered. "He said he was close to KaNack, but I've never seen him before in my life. Brelyna certainly knew him."

"I don't like it. I should go keep an eye on her." The Dunmer started forward, but the Bosmer grabbed his arm.

"Brelyna was the one who asked to speak in private, you should respect her wishes. Besides, she can take care of herself." She stared back at the younger mages and narrowed her eyes when she noticed the Breton getting awfully friendly with her son.

"How exactly did you know the Arch Mage?" Arvena asked the Dark Brotherhood member.

"Oh, my father and he worked together outside of the College of Winterhold," she answered simply. "In fact, he was the one who brought my parents together."

"Not a lot of half-elves in Skyrim," Brond mentioned as he noticed Vianna's pointed ears and red eyes. "I'm surprised he never brought that up to me in all the years I knew him. "

"Oh, I know so many funny stories about him and my father!" she laughed. "Did he ever tell you the time he mistook a bottle of skooma for a healing potion in the middle of battle?"

Ma'zaka's ears pricked up and his crystal blue eyes bulged in shock. "What did you say?"

"Oh, yes! He was fighting bandits with my father and suddenly claimed there was a giant horker coming for them." She tittered behind a palm before continuing. "My dad must have spent five minutes trying to get him to stop shooting fire balls at the thug's wagon. He destroyed all the stolen supplies he was trying to get back for the local village! They were furious!"

"I've never heard that story before," the she-elf commented as she rubbed at her arm. "I guess he only liked telling stories that had a happy ending."

"When Ma'zaka's great-grandfather and I were kids, KaNack would regale us about his adventures as a soldier and the Dovahkiin," the half-Nord explained as he crossed his arms with a smile. "He loved to tell us stories."

"Yes, he also liked to teach. He couldn't teach me much since I didn't have a gift for magic. KaNack's ghost friend trained me in the art of hand to hand combat and the element of surprise just as he did my father." Vianna playfully nudged Brond with her shoulder.

"Ghost? You mean Buddy!" Brond exclaimed with a laugh. "By Julianos, that specter always had such a serious look about him. He scared me half to death when I first saw him! He wasn't always by KaNack's side, but when he was I always felt like I had to be on my best behavior."

"That sounds like Buddy," Vianna sighed with a shake of her head. "He was one of the Argonian's closest companions. He befriended all of his conjurations, but Buddy was his favorite."

"I asked him to teach me how to summon a spiritual guardian like he did, but he told me that it was simply a spell that could not be taught." Arvena frowned and looked to the ground sadly. "I wish he had at least tried to teach me how to do it, I think summoning Buddy would be the closest thing to having him back. He taught me everything he knew in the art of Conjuration, but in the end he didn't feel that I had perfected it enough to try and handle the spell."

"Ma'zaka never liked the ghost," the Khajiit hissed. "Everytime I tried to talk to KaNack when he was around he would glare at me like I was inconveniencing his caster. Buddy was a jerk."

The mages laughed and even Vinanna chuckled a little. She was having such a grand time reminiscing about KaNack that she completely forgot about the bitterness that she and her father had felt when they arrived in Winterhold.

Brelyna led the Dark Brotherhood leader down the stairs and to the empty library so they could be away from prying ears and talk much more openly. A chill ran down her spine as she realized that Vytalas could not be happy with her, especially since she had done her damnedest to try and keep the Dark Brotherhood from showing up.

"So Brelyna, did KaNack tell you about all the lives he took after you left? How he took as many contracts as he could so that his bloodlust would blind him to the pain?" the Mer sneered. "I'd be happy to share with you all the moments you may have missed when you decided to break his heart."

"I know you didn't come here just to share memories with me, Vy," the Arch Mage said coolly as she took a seat at one of the empty tables and glared at him. "I am aware that you hate me almost as much as I hate what you do."

"I spread joy and justice to all the good little boys and girls of Skyrim," he chuckled as he took a seat. His expression then changed to a frown. "Yes, though, I do hate you."

"How did you know to come here?" Brelyna asked, ignoring the bitter look.

"As soon as Shadowmere came to me with the Blade of Woe I knew that KaNack had died," the archer explained. "We waited to hear from you, but it was only thanks to the Thieves Guild that we received information regarding when and where his funeral was going to be held." He shook his head and tsked her. "If you had simply informed us we might have remained on good terms, Brelyna, but you've made it abundantly clear that you had every intention in keeping us away from our leader's service."

"You took quite a risk coming here alone, Vytalas," the she-elf uttered. "Half the Imperial army is in Winterhold. They would not hesitate to arrest members of the assassins' guild should they know you are here."

He smirked at Brelyna's attempt at threatening him. "You wouldn't dare try and turn me in," he snickered at her. "You should know us well enough to realize that we never go anywhere alone." He leaned forward to give her a deadly stare. "If I so much as see one Imperial soldier approach me or a member of my family, I will see to it that every single person in that room above us is bathed in their own blood. Do we understand each other, Brelyna?"

The Arch Mage flinched at the threat and a bit of frost crackled from her hands. "You come anywhere near my daughter and the Imperial soldiers will be the least of your concerns," she growled.

The archer let out a loud bark of a laugh as he slammed his hand on the table in amusement. "Brelyna, you would never be able to kill me!" he leered. "After all, that is why you left, isn't it? Because you hated the killing?"

The she-elf huffed and looked away as she crossed her arms. "Still as spiteful and heartless as any member of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Not just a member," he insisted. "With KaNack's death I have been named the new leader of the guild." Vytalas draped an arm around the back of his chair and pointed at her. "And with him dead, you have become the new Arch Mage. Promotions all around now that KaNack the Listener is no more."

"You think his passing has not hurt me because I have remarried and moved on? He was still my friend, Vytalas. We were still decent to one another."

"That's not what Lucien told me," he growled. "KaNack was blinded to it because he still saw you as his dearest Dunmer, but Lachance saw every sideways look, every roll of your eyes, every flinch of disgust when the Argonian was not looking."

A rapping echoed through the large library as the Dark Brotherhood leader tapped a finger on the table. "You tolerated his presence, Brelyna. You did so because if he knew how you really felt about him you believed he might revoke our agreement and have you killed."

"Damn that wretched spirit and damn you," she growled darkly.

"The Brotherhood has honored their arrangement with you, Brelyna, because you have kept up your end of the bargain with your silence. If you wish to maintain this happy life you have made for yourself, I suggest you continue to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut."

The Arch Mage turned her nose up at the assassin, but knew better than to try anything to cross the Dark Brotherhood. Not for herself, but for the sake of her friends and family in the quarters above them. "You managed to get to the funeral, why are you still here?" she asked.

"We're here for the body," he answered bluntly.

The Dunmer's eyes widened in shock and disgust. "What? What do you mean the body?!"

"I mean the Dark Brotherhood will be taking our leader back," he answered simply.

"What, for some kind of sick and twisted necromancy?" she growled in revulsion.

Vytalas snarled, insulted that she had even thought they would do such a thing to their beloved Brother. "We are taking him home. KaNack was the Listener and he is to be buried near the sanctuary as all siblings who pass on should be. He will be placed in a proper grave in the earth where the Nightshade flowers will bloom."

"That is simply out of the question," Brelyna snapped. "He was a mage first and an assassin second. We already have plans of having him buried with Savos and the other Arch Mages of the past."

"His soul always belonged to Sithis, Brelyna," he grinned. "I also find it fairly amusing that you think you have a choice in the matter." He leaned forward, locking eyes with the Mer. "You lost all right to keep the Listener close to you the moment you decided you were too good for him."

Vytalas rose from his seat and rested his hands on his hips. "He deserves to be buried next to the Fool of Hearts. Someone who actually loved him."

The assassin turned to leave. "Please don't be as foolish as to try and retrieve him back. Doing so would be a desecration and there is nothing worse than invoking the wrath of Sithis upon yourself."

"I am the new Arch Mage, Vytalas!" the Dunmer exclaimed as she went after him. "I simply will not allow a legend like KaNack to be entombed in some unknown plot where only killers and scoundrels can find him and pay their respects! He should be revered by the good and decent people he fought for!"

The assassin froze and gradually turned back to her, a twisted smile gracing his lips. "Oh, Brelyna. Still the same self righteous Mer I remembered from my youth. You think any of the Brotherhood give a damn what you think?" He closed in on her until she had backed herself into a stone wall. "The moment you wanted to leave, all of us wanted you dead. It was the kindness of the Listener that caused us to hold our blades and it's our love for him that keeps you alive now."

Brelyna gasped when he slammed his palms against the wall, trapping her.

"You are on very thin ice, my dear. You have crossed the Dark Brotherhood, but because of our leader's wishes we are willing to let this little stunt of yours go. Do not press your luck, however, because the only man who stood between you and my bow is now dead."

He pulled away from her.

"We will be coming back for our Brother. I suggest you and the other mages do your damnedest to keep yourselves from becoming witnesses who must be dealt with." The archer turned his back to her and once again began to leave.

"Vytalas, wait!"

He paused, but refused to look back at the she-elf.

"You still have the summoning scroll, correct? The one that has his soul imprinted on it?"

The Dark Elf sighed as he nodded his head. "It's not with me right now, but we plan on summoning him soon." He finally turned around and pointed at her scowling. "No, you may not attend his return."

"Vytalas, I did love him once. Doesn't that mean anything? If you are going to take his body somewhere that I cannot visit, at least let me have the opportunity to see him one last time to say goodbye to his soul."

"The time of favors is over, Brelyna. You wanted us out of your life so badly that you tried to hide KaNack's death from us even though you knew eventually we would find out. You have scorned the Dark Brotherhood and as such you shall have nothing to do with our new guardian spirit. Unless his soul begs it of us, you won't be seeing him again." He started to leave again.

"Vytalas, you can't just deprive Skyrim of the hero they love," she begged the Dark Elf as she hurried after him.

"Watch me," he growled. The archer stiffened when he felt a hand grab his arm.

"You can still have him with your scroll, don't deny everyone else who loved him the right to pay their respects to his grave," she quietly insisted trying to reason with the assassin.

"They don't need to see a body. Fill the coffin with rocks for all I care." He yanked his arm from her grasp. "Brelyna, this is going to happen. It would be one thing if you truly still loved him, but all you want is to avoid having to come up with an explanation should someone discover that the Dragonborn's crypt is empty. You hate lying, but you are going to have to do a lot of it in the future."

Vytalas started up the stairs to fetch his daughter. "I will warn you one final time, my dear. If you try and stop us from collecting KaNack's body, people are going to die."

He smirked when he saw that Vianna was flirting with the half-elf Nord in the corner. Leave it to his little girl to start looking at boys around as soon as her father's back was turned. She may have been over two hundred years old, but she would always be a little girl in pigtails to him.

"Vianna! Time to go, my dear! The rest of the family is waiting!"

The girl pouted and grasped onto Brond's hand as she leaned over to peck him quickly on the cheek. "Hope we get to see each other again." She rushed back to her father's side and smiled up at him lovingly.

"You little flirt. You're just like your mother," he sighed as he lovingly brushed his fingers against her cheek.

"Oh shut up, he's cute," she insisted as she followed the Dark Brotherhood leader back down the stairs where Brelyna was still standing there in desperation. "Is she going to give us trouble?"

"No, I have a feeling that the Arch Mage is going to cooperate with us," Vytalas explained as he rested a hand on his daughter's shoulder and gave the Dunmer a hard look. "She knows letting KaNack be buried with his lover and siblings is the right thing to do."

"Vytalas, don't do this," she begged him quietly.

"Unless you have business for us and want someone dead, we have nothing else to say to one another," the Mer asserted, brushing past her to exit through the doors. "Farewell, Brelyna."

He needed to meet up with the other four assassins. They had to make all the arrangements and prepare for the rough night ahead of them. It was going to take every last member of the Dawnstar Sanctuary to pull this feat off, and they had to prepare for the worst.

If the Arch Mage ended up being stupid enough to try and stand between them and getting their Brother back, they would have no qualms over spilling blood in the college that night.


	4. The Spectral Mage

**Author's Notes: Here is the final chapter in To The Void. I do have plans in the future to write more short stories involving KaNack when he was still alive and his interactions with these Dawnstar assassins as well as future short tales involving the adventures of the Spectral Mage. Thanks for being there and reading KaNack's beginning, death and rebirth.**

**Special thanks to Ladydragon1316, CuZ D and MightyMerlin for all their awesome support and reviews and to Heiwako for being my editor. **

* * *

It had not been an easy night for the residents of the Dawnstar Sanctuary; they had gone through at least fifteen invisibility potions, but it was necessary to sneak in and out of the college's mausoleum completely unnoticed.

Brelyna had proven herself to be quite wise; she knew that the Brotherhood was coming for KaNack, but made sure that no one would be there to interfere with their mission.

There had been two students asleep outside the large tomb having been forbidden by their new headmaster to enter it that day, still needing more time to mourn the loss of their beloved Arch Mage.

Vytalas gave the orders for his followers to leave the young casters be. He had, Lucia, their Imperial mage, cast a slumber spell on the students to make sure that the Brotherhood would not be disturbed when moving the Listener's body. None of the assassins felt like they could relax until they were finally out of Winterhold and back in Dawnstar.

The hard part over and done with, the Dawnstar siblings went to work on digging a final resting place for their leader.

Not every Brotherhood member was lucky enough to be buried amongst their fellow assassins. Only the ones whose bodies could be found were able to reunite with the family. Nothing changed the fact that no matter where in the earth they had been laid to rest, the Nightshade flowers bloomed.

The family was pleased that KaNack was now back home where he belonged, buried alongside his beloved Fool of Hearts. While the Argonian's grave was still bare, Cicero's was covered in Nightshade flowers, and off to the side was a broken lute. It was a decoration that KaNack had felt was necessary to adorn the Keeper's plot.

The Dark Brotherhood leader wiped the sweat from his brow before wiping his dirt coated hands on a nearby rag. This was not the first grave he had to dig for a beloved family member and he was sure that it would not be the last. The only difference this time was that there would be more than just the residents of the Dawnstar Sanctuary attending to say their final goodbyes to the former Listener.

The Family from spread about Skyrim gradually began to arrive, taking time away from their contracts and duties to attend KaNack's funeral. There were no less than thirty shrouded men and women gathered around the icy shores of Dawnstar. Some had been former initiates of KaNack's sanctuary while others had only known of the Dark Brotherhood leader by name alone. Nothing changed the fact that he still was one of the reasons why the guild of assassins was thriving today.

Vytalas stepped back so that he was standing alongside his Dawnstar family.

Babette, eternally ten years old with the mindset of a profession killer, she would most likely remain an active member of the Dark Brotherhood for centuries to come.

Yoth was a large and intimidating Orc barbarian. He was not the stealthiest of individuals; in fact he was very loud and rambunctious when not out on assignment. The Orsimer always looked forward to when the family would gather at the tavern to drink and celebrate.

Ardwen was small, timid and hardly ever spoke more than a few words to anyone. The Wood Elf was the Keeper and had been trained by Cicero to care for the Night Mother. She had been so excited and honored to be chosen as the Unholy Matron's caretaker, but when her mentor died, so had her playful and social nature. She was like a ghost, wandering about the sanctuary, tending to her duties and speaking only if she was being directly approached by someone. Even then it was a chore to get her to talk. She had her Keeping tasks and nothing more.

Linwe, the Altmer, had just been named by Vytalas as the Speaker now that the Dunmer was the Listener. He very tall, even for High Elf, and was believed to have come from the Void itself. He never raised his voice, rarely showed emotion, and never embraced his fellow brothers and sisters. His unattached nature made the Mer perfect for tasks which required him to go out and meet with the invokers of Black Sacraments.

The last of their sanctuary was their newest initiate, Lucia. She was only eighteen, yet had a natural gift in the magical arts and could learn spells much faster than normal mages. KaNack had been excited when he introduced her to the family two months ago. The reptile had been planning on putting her through what he lovingly called the 'Festus Trials', but had passed on before he had even had a chance to begin the lessons. She was a part of the Dawnstar Sanctuary and yet knew next to nothing about this reptile that everyone was calling a legend.

"Well, best to get started," Vytalas whispered to his daughter. The Dark Brotherhood leader stood before the fresh grave and addressed the many assassins that had come from the nine holds of Skyrim. "Dearest Brothers and Sisters, our beloved Listener and leader KaNack has been laid to rest…again."

This caused a few chuckles to sound out from the crowd. The Argonian would have approved, he loved to laugh and would have wanted smiles at his funeral.

"What can one say about a man like the Listener who had lived a life as long and full as his? He loved who he was and lived to serve the Dark Brotherhood. A true assassin, he would always go out and take the life of his contract, no second thoughts and no leniency. Yet, as merciless a killer he was, he also was kind-hearted. He saw all of us as his children and would treat us as lovingly as a father during our times of doubt."

The Dunmer paused and pulled down his hood to reveal the fact that he had a single ear. "I had felt that I had failed the Brotherhood once and was ready to abandon it," he admitted. "KaNack did not look down on me though. He instead pointed out the ways in which I had been true to the Dark Brotherhood." He laughed sadly. "He really was like our father; no one in our unique family could ever disappoint him no matter how badly things went during a contract. He told me once 'There are no failures, only lessons'." The Dark Elf smirked. "I may not give out as many hugs as he did, but I too embrace the notion that we are a family and our love for one another makes us stronger."

The Mer grimaced as he rubbed the back of his neck not sure how to finish. The archer was never good at giving speeches and hated being put on the spot. As the new leader, however, he was expected to give a proper eulogy for their fallen friend.

Vianna could see that her father was struggling for words and spoke up. "KaNack was the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, a vicious killer, a fearless warrior," she grinned, "but he was also a troublemaker. Even in his final days, I remember that the Listener would somehow always find a way to prank one of us. He believed that in a world consumed by death, it was important to be able to laugh. Those outside the Brotherhood see us all as heartless monsters, but I thoroughly believe that there was more laughter and joy had in our little sanctuary than in any palace residing in Skyrim. I didn't grow up amongst nightmares and psychopaths; I was raised amongst protective Brothers and adoring Sisters. I was raised a child of Sithis and I feel that I was all the luckier for it. Not everyone is as blessed as us to have a family as caring and supportive as that of the Dark Brotherhood."

"He was an arrogant bastard and cheated during drinking games!" Yoth announced loudly as he joined Vytalas' side and draped an arm over his shoulder. "He was also one of the finest men I ever had the pleasure of working under. I loved my Brother and he took me in when no one else would." The Orsimer smirked. "I know I don't look or sound like one who would be a part of our little family. I was too reckless for the Imperial Army and too fascinated in the art of taking lives to be welcomed into the Companions. The Night Mother saw potential in me however, and shortly after I had killed a drunk that had pushed me too far KaNack sent this gray fetcher to find me."

Vytalas smiled as he thought about the night he went out to look for the Orc Barbarian.

"I call you a fetcher because you punched me in the head, Vy."

"You wouldn't wake up," the Dunmer responded, trying desperately not to snicker at the memory.

"Anyway, the Dark Brotherhood took me in when no one else would. The Listener pulled me to the side when I approached him, questioning my sanity as I seemed to have an unhealthy thirst for blood." Yoth let out a content sigh. "KaNack told me that I wasn't crazy. He said that I was a loyal son of Sithis and it was not bloodlust but my devotion to my deity that caused my desire to take lives." He chuckled quietly. "I was never a monster in the eyes of him or any of my new family. I found my true calling with this guild and I'm eternally grateful that it exists for people like us. A place to call home and surrounded by friends and family that understand and take care of one another." He turned around to scowl at the grave. "You son of bitch, I was supposed to die before you. When I get sent to the Void, I am going to kick your ass."

Linwe rolled his eyes as he approached the gravesite and stood beside Vianna, not really fond of the jubilant Orsimer next to his leader.

"Was KaNack perfect?" he began. "Of course not, he had a terrible temper, took his duty far too lightly at times and possessed the heart of a child. He was a hundred years my senior, yet would tell jokes and make us all celebrate at the end of the month like a pack of drunken Nords. At times I wondered if he really was the right person to be leading our guild." The Altmer was not at all fazed by the shocked and angry looks being shot in his direction.

"Yet, if one knows about his history with the Dark Brotherhood, they'd realize that despite his petty and clownish shell, he was at heart a true leader and assassin. He faced death and still shouted the name of Sithis, never allowing his faith to waver in even his darkest hours." Linwe frowned. "He tried to make us laugh and enjoy life because he understood that in our profession, death can come suddenly without warning. He wanted to make sure that in the limited time we had on Nirn that we managed to have brief moments of happiness. Those feelings of joy or pleasure are not to be had in the Void so he wished for us all to experience them as much as we could before being sent into the Dread Father's arms."

The Mer clasped his hands together as he looked at the ground. "I did my damnedest to not smile or laugh in front of him, but whenever that Argonian caught me off guard and saw that I was even the slightest bit happy, he would not let me forget about it any time soon. I may have a professional appearance to keep up, but I am going to miss that man and his selfless attempt to make even the most stubborn of us enjoy life while there was still time."

Ardwen shrunk in size as she cautiously joined her siblings and looked like a puny thing next to the huge Orc beside her.

"As you all know," she said in a soft voice, "I am the Keeper of the Night Mother. I am sure those of you who were present during the life of the previous Keeper understood that he and the Listener were more than just friends."

The assassins stared at the Bosmer in shock, for this had been the most that they had heard from her in the last six months combined.

"When Cicero passed, I too was at a loss for I had lost both my mentor and my friend. KaNack was mourning and yet he still took the time to try and be there for me as well." Ardwen bit her lip before continuing. "I hid myself away from my brothers and sisters, but the Listener knew that I had lost a very important part of who I was and he told me that it was better to mourn together than in solitude." She clasped a hand to her mouth, on the brink of sobbing. "He had lost his soul mate, yet that man, that selfless man, still went out of his way to make sure that I was alright. Not because I was the new Keeper, but because I was a friend who needed comforting."

The Mer grunted when she felt a strong arm pull her close. Yoth gave Ardwen a gentle smile and a light reassuring squeeze to let her know that it was alright to cry.

"When everyone else always just accepted me as a quiet loner to be left to her own devices, KaNack always took the time to sit me down and just talk. I never said much, he was willing to do most of the talking, telling me the adventures he had with his beloved jester. He knew I missed Cicero almost as much as he did." She hid her face in the strong leather armor of Yoth. "The last thing my Listener said to me before he left for his final contract was 'I'll make us some tea when I come back, Ardwen. Maybe this time you will have a story to tell me?'" She looked sadly at the grave. "I will share stories, KaNack. I will come here every day and tell one to you, I promise. I will tell you so many stories that Cicero himself will rise from the grave next to you and tell me to shut up."

A great hush fell over the group as the small unchild came forth and stood before the Dawnstar assassins, her small frame coming up only to Vytalas' hip. Babette smiled at the siblings that had come from across the country to attend KaNack's service. She was the oldest of all of them and they gave her the utmost respect because of it.

"Well, it's good to know that I had managed to attend at least one of the Listener's services," she began. "I think I can honestly say that I knew the Listener longer than any of you standing here. When I first met KaNack, he was a scrawny, temperamental Argonian with a thirst for blood that rivaled my own. In the end, he was a scrawny, temperamental Argonian with a thirst for blood that rivaled my own," she smirked. "He just had grayer feathers and more wrinkles." Babette smiled when she heard a few quiet laughs sound from the crowd.

"What impressed me the most about KaNack is that with all his faults, he always came through for the Dark Brotherhood whenever it was threatened. He was so young when all of this responsibility had been placed onto his shoulders, but the tragedy you all know as the Falkreath Fire forced him to grow up very quickly. He was only twenty-three and yet somehow he managed to not only begin to rebuild the sanctuaries you all live in today, but end the civil war that was tearing our land apart. When the Penitus Oculatus tried to finish what they had started, he made damn sure that those agents would never harm another one of our siblings. When those Morag Tong imposters tried to get all the guilds hunting for us, he not only stopped the murderers but the Listener also cleared the Brotherhood's name without betraying our secrets to the Empire."

The unchild clasped her hands behind her back and swayed playfully. "Time can pass by so quickly when you have eternal life. It seems like just yesterday that KaNack was kneeling down to me and asking what a child was doing in the Dark Brotherhood. Then just as suddenly he was an old man and just barely able to walk on his own. Nothing would stop him from performing his duties when he was a young man and that did not change in his final days. Even when his magic began to fail and his bones became brittle, the Listener continued to take contracts and send souls forth to the Dread Lord. He has served us well in life and now it is time for him to do the same in death."

Lucia crossed her arms and sighed heavily. They all had known the Argonian for years and had such wonderful memories to share about their experiences with him. The Imperial wanted to step up and add something as well, but there was nothing she could say that could possibly match the heartfelt words of the assassins.

She had been kicked out of the College of Winterhold for fighting and the Arch Mage came to her and suggested that there was another means to deal with all the pent up magicka burning within her. She had been so excited to start her new life in the Dark Brotherhood, but no sooner had she joined that the faction lost its leader. The most she knew about the reptile was that he hated bards, had a fondness for jesters, loved magic and apparently could hold his drink better than an Orc seven times younger than himself. All she could do was wait quietly for the moment that everyone had been looking forward to- the summoning of the new Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood.

Vytalas was relieved that his siblings had stepped in when they had, their stories and kind words made the eulogy more than he ever could have done on his own.

"We have said goodbye to our beloved Listener and Leader KaNack in the form we have always known him as- flesh, bone and blood. The time had come to welcome him back with the title that belongs only to one who is worthy of becoming a legend in our guild. Our Brother has been in the Void for five days, but now we will call him back to the mortal plane. I do not know what he will look like or how he is going to react, we all must realize though that this is the chosen soul of Sithis and deserving of just as much respect in death as he had received in life."

The Dunmer removed the summoning scroll from a pocket in his shroud and looked over the words carefully. He had read over them a hundred times since he had learned of the reptile's death, but he still could not help but feel apprehensive about bringing forth the spirit of his friend. The old Dark Brotherhood Spirit, Lucien Lachance, always seemed to be a constant resident in the Dawnstar Sanctuary, but Vytalas simply could not see himself summoning the Argonian to be by his side on a regular basis.

The Dark Elf had learned to depend on his own abilities and it wasn't going to be necessary to summon the spirit as often as the reptile had with Lachance. The former Dark Brotherhood leader needed to depend on the ghost from a young age; Vytalas was fortunate enough to know all about his responsibilities and what was expected of him far in advance of KaNack's passing. Still, it was going to be good to see his old friend again. Not many people get to make a guest appearance at their own funeral.

The Dunmer wet his lips and sucked in a deep breath before reciting the specific words necessary to complete the summoning process of the spirit. He was not a mage, but even those who did not have magicka flowing through their veins could use scrolls if they knew how to properly read them. He jumped backwards into the strong chest plate of Yoth as a blinding swirl of blue and white mist appeared before him.

"Easy there, Vy," the Orc chuckled. "Remember, it's just KaNack."

Indeed it was.

A hush fell over the assassins as the mist went away and standing in its place was an ethereal Argonian in Dark Brotherhood shrouds, the black handprint standing out even in his transparent form.

The Dark Elf's red eyes were as wide as mortally possible, he edged ever closer to the specter before him. He could tell it was KaNack by the large scar that covered the length of his face. His expression however was a grim one. The Argonian frowned and stared menacing at his caster with his pupil free eyes, not saying a word or even showing the slightest hint of being pleased at the summoning. The archer stood before the Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood and waited quietly for KaNack to say something, a greeting, a passage of wisdom. Something to mark the beginning of his life of the representation of the assassins' guild as a whole.

"BOO!"

Every single assassin jumped in surprise and the Dark Elf fell ungracefully on his rear end. The next sound that followed was laughter that echoed in the small area around them.

"By Sithis, Vytalas, don't tell me did not see that coming? I'm a ghost," the Argonian grinned. There was a roar of laughter coming from the all the Dark Brotherhood siblings as their new leader gawked in shock at the apparition before him.

"You bloody fetcher!" the Dunmer hissed, standing back up. "That is how you want to be remembered? This is your big moment and you decide to turn it into joke?!"

"How many years have you known me, Vy? Do you really need me to answer that question?" the ghost snorted as he crossed his arms, still looking most pleased with himself. KaNack turned to the surrounding assassins from the Skyrim sanctuaries. "My beloved children, you honor me with your attendance. Know that all your hard work and dedication will be properly rewarded. Keep true to your faith and never allow your devotion to waver for our Dread Father honors those who believe in Him even when it seems He has abandoned us. All hail the Dark Brotherhood. All hail Sithis."

"All hail Sithis," the assassins repeated quietly. No need to wake up all Dawnstar and alert them that there was a Dark Brotherhood gathering in their backyard.

Having properly greeted the others, the specter turned back to his beloved Dawnstar family. He felt a sense of relief in seeing them and also joy in that on the mortal plane he could once again embrace his emotions without the presence of the Unholy Matron.

Vytalas grumbled as he tapped the rolled up scroll against his hip. He was hoping that the Argonian might be more serious like Lucien had been, but then again it would not have been KaNack if he didn't take the opportunity to pull a prank.

"Linwe," the mage exclaimed as he hugged the towering Altmer. "You old stick in the mud! Did you miss me?"

"I…I would be lying if I said that I was not wanting of your company," the Mer muttered, feeling more than a little awkward to be in the loving arms of the Argonian. The reptile broke off the embrace and pinched Linwe's cheeks.

"So serious!" he huffed. "I was three hundred and I was more fun than you."

The Altmer grumbled and glanced to the side, not sure how to react to the Dark Brotherhood Spirit's treatment.

"Ah, Vianna," he uttered lovingly as he took the half-elf's chin in his head. "Gazing upon you now after seeing your mother, I can truly appreciate how much you have taken from her."

"Kaie?" the Listener asked in shock. "You saw Kaie in the Void?"

"Yes, her and the other siblings you trained with when you were just an initiate," KaNack answered, letting go of the girl's chin. "I have been reunited with so many friends and family, Vytalas. It is true what they say, there is no such thing as 'goodbye' in the Dark Brotherhood."

The reptile gleamed at Ardwen. The Bosmer was keeping her head low, unable to look the ghost in the eyes.

"You still owe me a story, my Keeper."

The Mer's head picked up, her dark eyes glistening with tears. This had been the first time KaNack had ever called her 'Keeper'. That was a title he reserved strictly for Cicero, it meant the world to Ardwen for the spirit call her by that name.

KaNack narrowed his eyes when he saw the sour expression on Yoth's face.

"Are you still mad because I didn't wait around for your sorry hide to die first? I wasn't going to wait around forever."

The Argonian ducked as the Orc swung at his head and grabbed Yoth's leg, pulling it up from underneath causing the large barbarian to fall backwards into the hard frozen earth. Loud laughter once again filled the small area by the shoreline. Even Yoth had an amused look plastered on his face.

"Should have known better than to try and take you," the large assassin snickered. "I'm still mad at you though."

"Tell you what, I'll have Linwe buy your drinks next month to make up for it," the reptile offered as he pulled his friend to his feet.

"Wait, what?" the Speaker muttered as he stared at the ghost in disbelief.

"Funny with Nazir, funny with you," KaNack grinned as he continued to walk down the line of his Dawnstar family. He took a knee to be at eye level with the unchild. "Ah, my dearest Babette. You still don't look a day over eight."

"You are looking rather young yourself. I see that you've seen fit to shed a few hundred years from your appearance since being sent to the Void."

"Vanity is a sin I am willing to admit to, Babette."

"As am I," she agreed, showing a hint of fang.

There was only one remaining member of the family whom he had yet to speak to and that was their newest Sister. The Spectral Mage walked towards the Imperial who seemed to have isolated herself from the others.

"Greetings, Sister," he began, looking her over. "As a fellow mage, I would have thought you'd be much happier to see me. What is troubling you?"

"Everyone else here knows you," Lucia muttered quietly, not looking the specter in the eyes. "They know all about you and your history with the Dark Brotherhood. I don't even know the first thing about you and you're a legend for Sithis sake."

"Hah!" he laughed. "I've lost two mentors in my time, Lucia. One was Savos Aren, the former Arch Mage of Winterhold, and the other was Festus Krex, the one whose methods I had been intending to train you with."

"Good luck with you being dead in all," she muttered bitterly. The Imperial scowled when the reptile ruffled her hair with his transparent claws.

"Some of the best lessons I learned came from one whom was already dead," he insisted. The Dark Brotherhood Spirit guided Lucia towards the others, keeping a hand resting on the small of her back. "Nonetheless, this is your family now. Do not isolate yourself from them for they are the ones who will always be there for you in the rough life ahead."

"Rough?"

"An assassin's life is not an easy one, Lucia," KaNack remarked as he moved to stand by the new Listener's side. "There is much happiness to be had, but there are also plenty of dangers and you can be damn sure tears. The world out there is an ocean and the Brotherhood is your raft. Swim too far from it and you risk drowning."

"Odd analogy from an Argonian," the young assassin said as she rested a hand on her hip and smirked.

"I like her," KaNack chimed to Vytalas who was giving the girl a disapproving look.

"This was our leader for centuries, girl. I would speak to him with a little more respect," the Mer growled. "KaNack, I understand that you and Lucien had a rather unique relationship. You always summoned him to be by your side."

"Lachance," he uttered the name sadly. "Yes, he was my friend, Vy. He was always there for me and even took care of me when I became too old to do so myself."

"You were a great man, KaNack. You have to understand though that it highly unlikely that we will be summoning you here to assist us on Tamriel very often. We understand the Tenets and regular training has made it so that many of us do not require an extra hand in battle. We admire you, but I don't see us needing you except in the direst of times."

This bit of information caused the Argonian to frown and he was more than a little hurt by the bluntness of the new Dark Brotherhood leader.

"Vy, are you telling me that I am simply going to collect dust on some shelf in the sanctuary? I am relieved to be with Cicero again in the Void, but for pity's sake." The spirit grasped the archer's shoulders gently. "I miss the colors, I miss the life, I miss being able to feel on my own terms, not just the Night Mother's."

"I'm just trying to be honest with you, my friend," Vytalas answered stiffly. "Please don't make this hard for us. We don't have to return you to the Void right away. There are many here who wish to thank you for all you have done."

"All I have done?" he hissed stepping away from the Mer. "I did what was required of me, nothing more. If you simply summoned me so you could get your final goodbyes, then do so and send me back. You did say after all that I am not needed anymore." He shook his head and gave the Mer a tired look. "I am glad that we prepared you for this role prior to my death, Vytalas. I guess it was so hard for me in the beginning I just assumed that there would be more for me to teach you once your time as a Listener began."

"I've upset you," Vy observed feeling a twinge of guilt. "KaNack, we will summon you in the future, I'm…"

"I'm not a child," he snapped. "Please don't bring me forth from the Void simply to humor me." The mage began to pace in place, much like Lachance had done when trying to calm himself. "I required the company of others to function, but you are self-reliant. You are so much stronger than I ever was. You are going to be a great leader, Vy. You don't need a ghost around to tell you that."

He clasped his hands together and bowed politely to the archer. "You can send me back, Vytalas. I'm not saddened, quite the opposite, in fact. I'm relieved. Seeing you so confident assures me that the Dark Brotherhood could not be in better hands."

"Hold it!"

The assassins spun around. Lucia was rushing towards them and she poked the Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood hard in the chest.

"What about me?" she exclaimed. "You were supposed to train me in the art of destruction! There aren't any mages in the sanctuary! Who in Oblivion is going to show me how to perfect my craft? Yoth?! The fetcher broke three enchanted weapons in the last month!"

"Hey! I…Yeah, it's true," the Orsimer grumbled.

"I can't go back to Winterhold and I am not leaving my new family! You are the only one who can teach me, KaNack! I am willing to learn! Vytalas might not need you, but I do!"

The ghost blinked at as Lucia's upper lip twitched in a pitiful pout. The Argonian looked over to the Dark Brotherhood leader and gestured towards the girl.

"She makes a valid point. She needs to be properly instructed in the Arcane Arts. She will be quite efficient at killing once she gets through the training I had to endure with Festus."

"Assuming she survives it," Babette quipped as she flipped her hair back. "The girl is fairly young, KaNack."

"She is, but so was I when I first stepped past the Black Door," the specter insisted. He crossed his arms and glanced at the Dark Brotherhood leader. "You possess my scroll, you are the leader, this is completely your call, Vy…Listener," he corrected himself. "It's going to take me a while to get used to calling you that."

The Dark Elf sighed heavily as he looked over the young Imperial. The girl wrung her hands together, her blue eyes looking to him in desperation. She wanted the Argonian- scratch that, she NEEDED him. A small smile curved up from the archer's lips as he handed the summoning scroll over to Lucia.

"My dear, he's all yours."

"Great! This calls for a celebration! Mead and ale for everyone in the sanctuary!" Yoth exclaimed as he hurried back to the Black Door. A few of the surrounding assassins followed after the Orc while the other families thought it best to leave Dawnstar. They still had contracts to complete and had already paid their respects to their fallen leader.

"Party!" Vianna cheered.

"Wait! The Listener never agreed to that!" Ardwen exclaimed. "Keep them away from Mother! I just arranged the flowers the way I liked them!"

Linwe let out a loud and exhausted sigh as he ran a hand down his face and bowed to Vytalas and the Spectral Mage. "Listener. Spirit. It has been an honor and a pleasure. Now I must be off to bludgeon my oversized Brother. The Tenets say I cannot kill him, but there are plenty of other ways to get the man under control."

The High Elf then hurried inside as well with Babette close behind.

"Ah, Linwe and Yoth. Why don't those two just kiss each other and get it over with?" the mage chuckled as he grinned wickedly at the Dunmer before him. "I suppose this means that I am going to stick around a little while longer." The ghost pointed a claw at Lucia. "My little Sister, I am going to put you through Oblivion. It's going to be hard and you might end up hating me before it's all said and done."

The Argonian's claws lit up a bright white in color and he shot the energy to the ground bringing forth a blue and white flaming atronach.

"However, if you truly want to perfect your craft, you will fight your way through it and never quit."

The Imperial held the scroll close, realizing that she had just been handed a legend. She was going to be trained under a man who was chosen by Sithis Himself to represent the entire Dark Brotherhood. It was going to be an honor and a privilege.

"Well, I'll leave you two to your lessons," the archer sighed as he started for the Black Door. "I should go in there and keep an eye on Linwe and Yoth and make sure neither end up breaking a Tenet."

The Argonian smiled at the small female assassin before him and began to pace before her.

"Now listen up, Luca…"

"KaNack, you know my name is…." She grunted in pain as the reptile smacked her hard in the back of her head. "Ow! What in…?!"

"No whining!" he hissed, crossing his arms. "I will not put up with any whining." He tried to suppress the smirk as the Imperial rubbed at the back of her head.

"Fine. So, what do I call you? KaNack? The Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Either title is fine," the Argonian insisted with a shrug. His expression suddenly softened as he gleamed at her. "If you want to though…you can call me 'Buddy'."


End file.
